


Wrong Number

by SoldierBorn87



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Texting, Wedding Planning, dealing with grief
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoldierBorn87/pseuds/SoldierBorn87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Stiles meant to text Lydia, but input the wrong number by mistake. And one time he didn't.</p><p>(Or: The one where Stiles and Derek become texting buddies and then friends and then pack.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress, so please be aware that tags and whatnot are subject to change as things develop. I know a lot of the major plot points, but not everything. There is totally plenty of room for surprises. 
> 
> As always, special thanks goes out to Ruby for all her amazing beta-ing skill. You are my hero.

Stiles is running late the first time it happens.

His fingers fly across his phone’s keyboard as he glances around his apartment to make sure he has everything. He does have everything, right? He scans the items by the door and quickly pats down his pockets. Laptop and notes? Yes. Keys? Right. Lunch? Good.

Normally, numbers are his thing, and it’s a point of pride for Stiles that he hasn’t programmed any of his friends’ phone numbers into his cell. After all, how many people in this day and age can say that they have all the phone numbers they need memorized? Not many, he’d bet.

However, right now he’s thinking more about the presentation he has to give at work, and whether or not Greenberg will have his shit together, than inputting the correct phone number. He’s input Lydia’s number a hundred times before and never once misdialed, so today shouldn’t be an exception.

It just figures, though, that the one day he’s running late and can’t really afford any distractions is the day he finally messes up his numbers.

**_We’re meeting at that place you like on 7th tonight, right? 8 o’clock. What’s it called? The one with the really good steaks._ **

After Stiles sends the text, he grabs his things, locks his door behind him and does his best not to trip down the stairs – the elevator is out of order again, damnit – as he heads for the parking garage.

Stiles has just hopped in his jeep and is starting it up when his phone pings with a text alert.

**_Wrong number._ **

Stiles stares at the message. What? That can’t be right.

Stiles glances at the number attached to the message. Huh. He somehow managed to transpose the last two digits of Lydia’s number. Whoops.

Stiles is trying to figure out how that could have happened when his eyes suddenly catch on the tiny clock in the upper right hand corner of the screen. Oh fuck! Unless the universe decides to grant him a miraculous amount of green lights, Stiles is going to be so, so, soooo late for work.

Stiles sends back a quick **_Sorry_** , buckles his seat belt and speeds out of the parking garage. He’ll call Lydia later.

~-~-~

The second time it happens, Stiles is half asleep.

He’s just gotten back from a weekend trip up to visit his dad – literally, he has just pushed his front door open and dragged his stuff inside. He’s tired and irritable (traffic was a bitch) and wants nothing more than to collapse onto his bed and sleep for the next eight to twelve hours. Unfortunately, he’s also just received a rather worrying text from Allison.

**_Lydia and Jackson had a big, public blow up today. She won’t talk to me._ **

Lydia and her fiancé have been known to fight from time to time. That’s nothing new. Stiles doesn’t understand it, but it works for them so he doesn’t question it. Well, not very often, anyway. What is new, is that Allison is worried enough about the fight to be texting Stiles.

Stiles sighs and resigns himself to the fact that he’s probably not going to get to bed anytime soon. He heads into the kitchen to flick on the coffee maker. If Lydia decides she wants to talk, Stiles needs to be awake enough to listen.

**_Hey, Ally says you and Jackson had a fight. Are you okay?_ **

Stiles listens to the coffee maker burble and starts putting his things away while he waits for Lydia’s reply. His phone pings while he’s dumping the last of his dirty laundry on the ever-growing pile by his bedroom closet. Ugh, he has no idea when he’s going to get to dealing with that. Which is actually terrifying, since the pile is starting to climb the wall.

Stiles leaves the room and closes the door behind him as he digs his phone out of his pocket. If he can’t see the pile, than it doesn’t exist. That’s logical, right?

**_Wrong number._ **

What? 

Stiles stops and blinks down at his phone. How…? He looks at the number and seriously? Seriously!? He transposed the last two numbers again.

**_OMG so sorry. Tired. Won’t happen again._ **

After he sends the apology, Stiles heads into the kitchen and pulls up his sent texts. He leans against the counter, next to the still burbling coffee maker, and resends his intended message, this time taking extra care to make sure the number is correct.

His phone pings almost as soon as the message is sent. 

**_S’ok._ **

Stiles is genuinely confused – Lydia never uses short forms in her texts – until he realizes it’s from the wrong number he dialed. Huh.

He shrugs it off and debates whether or not to make himself something to eat while he waits to hear from Lydia.

When she finally texts back, it’s to tell him she isn’t having this conversation via text. Stiles rolls his eyes, finishes off the plate of crackers and cheese he made himself, and calls her. They end up spending over two hours on the phone discussing why Jackson is an asshole, but she still loves him and how, provided he apologizes, Stiles needs to leave his next two weekends free so they can go look at potential venues for the wedding.

By the time Stiles makes it to bed, he’s too wired to sleep. Figures. He ends up sorting his laundry, so he can get a start on it first thing when he gets back from work tomorrow.

~-~-~

There’s no excuse for why it happens the third time. Stiles isn’t rushing anywhere, he’s well rested, and… Yeah, there’s no reason for why it happens. It just does.

Maybe he should just give in and program all his supposedly memorized numbers into his phone.

**_Wanna catch a movie?_ **

Stiles doesn’t even know if there’s anything worthwhile playing, he’s just bored and wants to hang out. He’d text Scott, but it’s Thursday and that’s his and Allison’s date night. Besides, he thinks as he absent-mindedly flips through TV channels, Lydia totally owes him one for all the pre-wedding hell she’s been putting him through lately. 

Seriously, she didn’t care for any of the venues he liked; Jackson hates having him around, so they always end up fighting; the florist’s made his eyes water; for the sake of their friendship he is not getting involved when it comes to dresses or colour schemes; and for the _absolute last time_ just get a red velvet cake, Lydia! It’s Jackson’s favourite and it’s not like you’re going to eat any of it anyway. Honestly, he doesn’t know why they keep having that argument.

If he survives long enough to make it to the actual wedding, Stiles will be shocked. Utterly, profoundly shocked.

**_Wrong number._ **

Stiles blinks. Really? He checks the number and… yep, it’s the same mistake. Again. Fuck, why is this his life?

**_Sorry. I think this is becoming habit when I’m not paying attention._ **

**_S’ok._ **

Stiles doesn’t know why, but he feels like those three little letters have a sad connotation behind them. On a whim he texts back.

**_Really? It’s not super annoying?_ **

While he waits to see if his misdial will text back, Stiles correctly inputs Lydia’s number and asks about the movie. 

In no time his phone double pings. Both texts state: **_No._**

Huh. Okay then.

Stiles debates the pros and cons of continuing to bug Lydia – her abruptness tells him she’s either busy or in a mood – as he texts the wrong number back.

**_So you don’t mind if I keep texting you?_ **

Stiles knows he should be wary, it could be anyone on the other end, but he can’t seem to stop himself. And it’s not like he has anything to lose. Well, not really. Several of his dad’s safety lectures regarding stranger danger come to mind, but at 26 Stiles finds most of those arguments invalid.

His phone pings.

**_Yes._ **

Stiles snorts. Whoever it is on the other end, they are definitely a person of few words. Stiles wants to ask if that’s because they have a texting limit or if they just naturally don’t say much, but he thinks that might be rude. So he settles for clarifying the mysterious texter’s answer.

**_Yes, you mind? Or yes, I can keep texting you?_ **

There’s a pause. Stiles flicks the TV off – there’s nothing on – and digs around in the couch cushions for the book on Medieval warfare he started reading last week. He did leave it here, right? Hell, he better not have lost it, Allison will kill him.

He finds the book (under the couch – how?) just as the phone pings.

**_You can keep texting._ **

Stiles considers how to respond to that. Is it an invitation to continue this conversation or an assurance that if he mistakenly dials this number again in the future, it’s okay? Stiles shrugs, might as well push his luck. It’s not like he’s got anything better to do tonight.

**_You know, my friends would say you’re inviting trouble. I tend to talk a lot._ **

**_Really. I never would have guessed._ **

Stiles laughs.

**_Seriously. You will probably end up regretting this._ **

**_Probably._ **

Stiles smirks.

**_Thanks._ **

**_You said it, not me._ **

**_All right. Change of topic. You know if there are any good movies playing?_ **

**_No._** Then after a moment. **_Aren’t you going to the movies?_**

**_Friend’s busy._ **

**_So I’m just a way to pass the time._ **

Stiles feels bad about that and he’s not sure why. It’s the truth. If Lydia were available he wouldn’t be indulging his curiosity. Stiles sighs.

**_Sorry. If you want I can leave you alone._ **

There’s a long pause and Stiles is sure whoever is on the other end has decided to quit texting, but then his phone pings.

**_What kind of movies do you like?_ **

Stiles and the mysterious texter spend the next hour or so debating the merits of various film genres. Whoever is on the other end, they have a thing for Bruce Willis action flicks and bad sci-fi. They also think Stiles’ love of low budget horror movies reflects poorly on his taste and their favourite movie snack is peanut M&Ms.

The conversation ends when Stiles realizes he’s starting to fall asleep and he’s still got a few chores he needs to do before he can crash. Being a responsible adult sucks.

~-~-~

This time Stiles does it on purpose.

It’s been a little over a week and while Stiles has been busy (things with the wedding are really starting to pick up), he has also been thinking about the mysterious texter. 

What prompts someone to spend two hours talking to a random stranger? Stiles honestly has no idea. He knows he was motivated by curiosity and boredom, but he’s pretty sure that wasn’t the case with the mysterious texter. The simplest recourse here would be to ask, but…

Stiles doesn’t know. A thousand “what if” scenarios run through his mind as he gets started making dinner. This person could be a kid or a killer, they could be curious or crazy, they could be… Well, anything. But what if they’re lonely or sad? What if they just really need somebody to talk to? What if…

What if they’re suicidal? 

What if Stiles is the only one who can help? 

Fuck, his dad is going to be so pissed at him if he ever finds out.

Before he can think better of it, Stiles takes out his phone and sends a text.

**_Hey, how are you?_ **

He’s just finishing chopping the potatoes and putting them in the oven when his phone pings. He takes a moment to get the chicken started before examining the text.

**_Fine. Did you mean to dial me??_ **

**_Yes.?_ **

Stiles doesn’t get an immediate answer, which worries him.

**_Should I not have??_ **

**_No, it’s fine. How are you?_ **

**_Tired. Cooking. Really wishing I didn’t have to spend the weekend dress shopping._ **

**_Dress shopping?_ **

**_Yeah, my friend’s getting married and she says she needs a man’s opinion. I told her no like a thousand times, but Lydia just seems to have this way of getting what she wants._ **

**_Sounds like my sister._**

**_Oh?_ **

**_Yeah, she was always getting me involved in things despite my protests._ **

Stiles smirks even as he wonders at the use of past tense. He debates asking, but ultimately decides against it. He doesn’t know this person well and he doesn’t want to offend or upset them. Instead, he sticks with what he knows is safe.

 ** _I looked up that show you mentioned the other night. Eureka._**

**_And?_ **

**_The pilot was cool. I like the mix of comedy and drama, spliced with questionable science, thing they have going on. I’m definitely gonna make time to watch more._ **

**_Good. I’m glad you enjoyed it._**

Stiles’ oven sounds, letting him know he needs to check the potatoes. He gives them a stir and then sets up a pot of boiling water so he can steam some broccoli and carrots.

**_I think my dad would get a kick out of it as well. He’s the Sheriff back home, so I think the cop angle would amuse him._ **

**_Sounds like you’re close._ **

**_It’s just us. So yeah, we’re pretty close._ **

Stiles pauses and then just goes for it.

**_How about you and your family?_ **

He hopes he isn’t overstepping his bounds, but the segue was too ideal to pass up. While Stiles waits for a response he adds some rosemary and garlic to the chicken and checks the vegetables.

 ** _I have to go._**

**_Did I say something wrong?_ **

**_No. I just remembered I have to get something done for work._ **

**_Okay. I’ll talk to you later?_ **

Stiles waits, but he doesn’t get a response. It worries him. He spends the rest of his evening going back over the conversation trying to figure out what he could, or perhaps should, have done differently.


	2. Chapter 2

Derek stares down at his phone.

It’s been two days and he still doesn’t know what to say. 

Actually, he doesn’t even know why he cares that he doesn’t know what to say. It’s not like the guy who keeps accidently texting him is anything other than that: some random wrong number Derek has foolishly talked to a few times.

And why the hell is he talking to a wrong number? Seriously, if Laura were around she’d either laugh at him or tell him he needs to get out more and make some real friends. 

Derek huffs. She’d probably do both. She’d probably laugh so hard there’d be tears in her eyes before she shoved him out the door and took him clubbing or some other such nonsense designed to force him to be social.

But that’s the whole problem right there, isn’t it? Laura isn’t around anymore and Derek doesn’t have anyone to talk to about it. Oh, he has a couple co-workers who have offered. Both Isaac and Boyd told him if he needed anything he shouldn’t hesitate to ask, but it’s… It… It doesn’t feel right.

He’s not that close with the people he works with at the garage and he doesn’t want to impose. Besides, he’s a private person. Derek doesn’t like talking about his feelings. In fact, he doesn’t like talking in general. He’d much rather bury himself in a book for a few hours or lose himself in a good movie.

Which again begs the question, why has he been talking to that wrong number? Why does he even now want to find the words to start another conversation with the guy? 

Derek grits his teeth and thinks about throwing his phone across the room. He thinks about it smashing against the wall and about how he’d then have to get a new phone and how maybe he’d get a new number while he’s at it and then he would never have to worry about the random texter again.

But that’s not what he wants.

It’s not even close.

He wants his sister back. He wants to hear her laugh and listen to her badgering him about being an antisocial weirdo. He wants to fight with her over whose turn it is to do the cooking or the laundry. He wants to smell her scent, fresh and vibrant and comforting, when he comes home after a long day. The scent of family and love. Of pack.

Derek desperately wants his sister back. Because if she were here he wouldn’t feel like he’s falling apart at the seams, like his control is dancing on a razor thin edge. If she were here he wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night shaking and terrified because he’s alone, because even though his eyes glow red, he’s an omega now.

Derek takes a deep breath and forces his hands to stop shaking.

He needs to talk to somebody, needs to get out of his head. He knows he does. And yeah, maybe it’s stupid and reckless and dangerous to choose a stranger, but then again, maybe a stranger is the only option he really can deal with right now. 

Before he can talk himself out of it, Derek sends a text.

**_Hey._ **

The response is almost immediate, as is the drop in his anxiety.

**_Hey._ **

**_How are you?_ **

**_Good. You?_ **

**_Fine._** Then: **_How was dress shopping?_**

It takes two texts to cover the guy’s response.

**_As horrible as I imagined it would be. We were there for HOURS and Lydia still couldn’t make up her mind. I swear I almost died of starvation – not to mention boredom, so much boredom – while we were at the bridal boutique._**

**_At least she narrowed it down to something form fitting, no lace or tulle, and with an asymmetric, portrait, or sweetheart neckline. Ugh, I’m getting tired just thinking about it all again._**

Derek smirks and shakes his head.

**_I don’t know what most of that means._**

**_Be glad. Be soooo glad._**

Derek sends his next text without thinking.

**_I’m sorry about the other night._**

**_What? Why? You had to work. I understand._**

Fuck. He hadn’t meant to say that.

Derek spends a long time agonizing over what he should do, but before he can make a decision his phone vibrates with an incoming text.

**_Hello?_**

**_Sorry. I actually didn’t._** Then, because he knows he should clarify: **_Have to work that is._**

**_Then why did you leave?_**

Derek closes his eyes. This is what he wanted isn’t it? It’s why he started this conversation. He needs to talk to somebody, needs to be honest with somebody. Derek takes a deep breath and then another, he can do this. 

**_My sister died recently. Talking about it is hard. When you asked about my family, I couldn’t handle it._**

Derek’s heart races as he waits for a response. He’s pretty sure he jumps when it finally comes.

**_I lost my mom when I was eleven. I know it’s not the same, but… If you ever need to talk, about your sister or movies or whatever, please don’t hesitate to text me. Okay? Anytime. You can even call me if you want._**

Derek is stunned. He deletes several texts before he finally just goes with the truth.

**_I don’t know what to say._**

**_You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to know that I get it and I’m here for you if you need me to be._**

**_Why would you do that?_**

**_Why wouldn’t I?_**

“Because you don’t even know me,” Derek growls at his phone. He’s not used to kindness and he doesn’t know how to take this unexpected offer. There’s got to be some sort of catch, right? No one is this nice to someone they don’t know.

**_I’m a stranger._**

**_Then why did you text me?_**

Derek blinks and struggles to find an answer, but before he can his phone vibrates with another set of incoming texts.

**_Look, I know you don’t know me and I don’t know you, but maybe that’s what you need. Sometimes we can’t talk to the people around us about what’s really going on because we’re afraid of being judged by them. Or maybe we don’t want to burden them. Or we think they won’t understand._**

**_But we can’t just keep our feelings bottled up. It’s not healthy. After my mom died, I tried to hide how much I missed her from my dad because I didn’t want to add to his grief. I ended up having panic attacks and scaring him half to death instead._**

**_I’m not saying I think that’s what’s happening with you. I’m just saying it’s hard to open up sometimes. And sometimes what we need we can’t get from the people closest to us. Sometimes what we need is simply someone who doesn’t know anything and is only there to listen._**

**_I’m willing to listen._**

Derek swallows hard.

**_Thank you._**

**_Not a problem. So, what do you need?_**

Derek doesn’t talk about Laura, at least not that night. Even with the more than generous offer of a sympathetic ear, he’s still not quite ready. Instead he lets himself be dragged into a discussion about cake flavours and the pros and cons of ice sculptures and the various meanings associated with different flowers. It’s relaxing and mind-numbing and exactly what he needs. When they finally say goodnight a little over three hours after starting their conversation, Derek finds himself more at ease than he can remember being for… Well, for a long time.


End file.
